


Ember

by Caprichoso



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, General Stupidity and Obliviousness, M/M, Pining, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprichoso/pseuds/Caprichoso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Leorio lets out what could pass for a laugh, a little huff that releases a burst of cigarette smoke. It's a perfect metaphor; there's something toxic burning inside him, eating him away." The cloud of feigned nonchalance is suffocating them both. Kurapika sees hints, an outline of what he's failing to understand... but Leorio still won't tell him what's wrong.</p>
<p>Part of the Hunter x Hunter Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ember

The cinder glows orange, burning away infinitesimal fractions of a life better left long; with every millimeter the fire claims, Kurapika's hatred for cigarettes grows.  
  
It started as mere distaste- the smoke, the smell, the slavery of a weak will. At best, he could ignore it, like waving away the wisps of smoke the tobacco left behind. At worst, it grated on his nerves enough to prompt a hasty departure, but never to anything more drastic. Smoking was a personal decision- an idiotic one, but it wasn't Kurapika's place to criticize other's choices, at least aloud.   
  
That was before Leorio started smoking.   


* * *

  
"Why do you smoke those awful things? You're going to be a doctor one day; you know better than anyone how bad they are for you."   
  
Leorio didn't turn to him, didn't even take his eyes away from whatever distant and invisible thing held his gaze. There was nothing on the horizon to keep his attention like that; Kurapika had looked, then looked again just to be sure. The sun had long since set, whispers of moonlight trickling onto the barren park. A well-meaning renovation of the landscape had been abandoned after funding had been reallocated to something else, something undoubtedly more important. Here and there a stray weed breached the dirt, a mockery of the flowers that had bloomed all along the rolling green. Only the benches remained as they had been. It was a particularly cruel sort of mercy, having a familiar place to sit and stare at everything that no longer was, no longer would be. It would be kinder to rip the benches out and be done with it, but indifference kept them rooted.   
  
"Yup." One strained, smoke-deepened syllable. That was all the response Kurapika's concern merited.   
  
It was only through a herculean effort that Kurapika kept his eyes from flashing red; his blood thrummed in his veins, nerves plucked so expertly by Leorio's indifference, vibrating like guitar strings. The chord resonated throughout his entire body, awakening kindred and conflicting urges. Kurapika's fingers itched to slap his friend across the face, and his jaw ached with the effort of holding back a venomous retort. Even as he held his rage just below the boiling point, though, another instinct surged forward, impossible to keep in check. A familiar and unwelcome tingle took up residence in his groin; he had mere seconds before the tenting in his slacks became painfully obvious.   
  
He would be hard-pressed to recall just when his sparring matches with Leorio had begun to have this secondary effect on him; all Kurapika could say for certain was that it had been going on for quite a while, and it was getting worse every time. He could blame it on adrenaline, proximity, that damned cologne that Leorio wore, but pinpointing a cause would do nothing to quell this illogical, _pathological_ desire to straddle Leorio's hips and grind downwards even as he strangled him into unconsciousness. A tiny voice remarked that strangling was an act of passion; Kurapika tried in vain not to blush at those implications, bringing one knee forward and leaning down to hide his lower body's traitorous response.   
  
"I asked _why_ , Leorio," Kurapika growled. As two fingers rose once more to bring an untimely demise closer, he slapped Leorio's hand, sending the cigarette hurtling into the darkness. A tiny cluster of sparks scattered along its path, then it finally tumbled to a stop, a death-hungry ember with nothing left around it to consume but itself. Leaning forward still further to bring his face level with Leorio's, Kurapika glared into his friend's eyes, swearing to himself not to move a centimeter until he got what he needed. "I expect an ans-"   
  
The hand that seized Kurapika's tie and dragged him forward was a surprise, to make a gross understatement; the utter shock of what followed, he lacked a word strong enough to express. Leorio's mouth slammed into his own, lips mashing together hard, too hard. Those lips, all the softer for the rasp of stubble surrounding them, held still for a moment, then began to move, setting Kurapika's world spinning.   
  
This was not Kurapika's first kiss, if something so artless and brutal could even be called such. Naive exploration with a friend in his tribe grew his knowledge beyond mere theory; fleeting moments stolen with strangers after he had left home had expanded his perspective. In his loneliest moment, drunk in a too-comfortable hotel room on the anniversary of him burying the Kurta, a rented companion's kiss had made his skin crawl and stomach churn, and he had scarcely sent the bewildered boy away with his money before curling into a ball and crying himself to sleep.   
  
This kiss, though... it was something else entirely. There was such intent behind this action, such desperate and demanding purpose. Leorio was trying to communicate something here, something that he could not or would not reduce to mere words; Kurapika struggled to decipher it as he would a foreign language. His fumbling attempts at understanding were abandoned entirely, though, when Leorio's tongue entered his mouth.   
  
Cigarette smoke, new layered atop old and punctuated by traces of mint, flooded into his mouth, cloying and ashy and so utterly foreign as to be thrilling despite the awful taste. The noise Kurapika made in response was a chimera, an awful amalgamation of weak and pitiful sounds, any of which he would vehemently deny making; the combination of them set his cheeks ablaze. In the back of his mind hung his goal, the secret he was trying to drag from his friend's lips, the question unanswered, yet somehow he couldn't bring himself to break the kiss and persist. One hand rose of its own accord, fingers trembling, seeking purchase on Leorio's cheek. Closer and closer they drew, but before skin brushed skin, Leorio released his hold and pulled away, leaving both of them gasping for breath.   
  
An eternity passed in the blink of an eye, seconds or minutes or hours, Kurapika blinking as his mind struggled to interpret what had just happened. "I... why..." he stammered before finally collecting himself. "That was a low blow, even for you." Something in his gut twisted in protest, but he clenched his fists as he forced the feeling away. That was what this had been, all it could have been- a diversion. Leorio was taking advantage of Kurapika's infatuation as a means to distract him. "But I'm not letting this go; you still haven't answered my question."   
  
Leorio's smile was paper-thin and painful, as though burdened with sole ownership of some painful knowledge that should have been shared. "Yeah, I did," he murmured, barely audible.   
  
Kurapika's eyes widened. Looking from side to side as though there were an answer to be found in the barren landscape over Leorio's shoulder, he bit his lip, blinked, shook his head. "You didn't say anything. You just ki-" The word stuck in Kurapika's throat, as impossible to pronounce as it was to believe. "Kissed me," he finished, swallowing hard and resisting the irrational compulsion to run his tongue over his lips. "How is that an explanation for why you smoke?"   
  
Seconds passed, silence condensing the air between them to a thick, murky liquid. The corner of Leorio's mouth twitched, eyes crinkling with a pain he still refused to share. A deep sigh inflated his chest, and he fished in his jacket pocket for a moment before retrieving his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Once, twice, three times, he tapped the box against his wrist, then opened it and pulled out another cigarette. "You're the smartest person I know, Pika," he rasped, "But sometimes you're just so damn stupid." He brought the cigarette to his lips and lit it, orange and yellow dancing across a face so tired, more tired than Kurapika had ever seen it. "When you finally figure it out, let me know." With that, he stood and brushed past Kurapika, puffs of smoke marking his passage as he wandered off into the dark.   
  
That night, in the privacy of his hotel room, as he stroked himself to a hurried, desperate climax, Kurapika's mind and body conspired to betray him. The formless fantasy lover he had cultivated over years of solitude flickered and coalesced into a familiar face; guttural murmurs in a distinctive baritone filled his ears. And worst of all, that unmistakable scent and taste- layers of tobacco smoke and mint- lingered to haunt him long after his toes had clenched and a name had spilled unbidden from him along with his completion.   


* * *

  
Kurapika loathes cigarettes now, despises them with a passion almost great enough to turn his eyes scarlet. If asked why, he might say it's because his closest friend is using them to kill himself slowly. That statement, while true, merely scratches the surface. The cigarettes are inextricably tied to Leorio's secret, the truth that he refuses to disclose even as it eats him away from within. Refuses to let Kurapika help him.   
  
And above all, Kurapika hates how just a whiff of the smoke from Leorio's brand is enough to get him instantly hard, almost throbbing, even after all this time. It's happening now, even as he tries to contain his simmering fury at this pigheaded man, this man who hasn't spoken to him whatsoever outside of Zodiac meetings, who now has the gall to send a text inviting him to their park-  _the_ park, he corrects- and light a cigarette as they sit together on that same damned bench. This man who still hasn't said a single word in the time it's taken to burn through half that cigarette.   
  
Another puff of smoke reaches Kurapika's nostrils, and another pulse deposits a little bead of moisture on his inner thigh. He's silently grateful to be wearing a suit and not traditional Kurta garb; a lack of undergarments would make his plight glaringly obvious.   
  
Kurapika shakes his head to clear it, tries to think of the words he's been storing up, small talk, _anything_ other than how much he wants to taste more than just the smoke wafting between them. Shoving that desire aside, though, all he's left with is a pain that would be best described as hollow ache if it weren't so damned sharp at the same time. It's festering in his chest, this knowledge that he continues to fail Leorio with his lack of understanding... and that Leorio is too disappointed with him to simply tell him what he can't grasp on his own.   
  
Pink-tinged eyes, concealed by contact lenses, burn with the first hints of tears; before he can react, instinct cuts them off and converts them to anger. Tears are weak, weakness is failure, failure is death, and death is a respite he doesn't deserve until his clan is at peace. Anger keeps him safe, and it's anger that rips his next words from the pool of resentment deep in his gut. "I assume you called me here for some reason other than to murder me with secondhand smoke," he drawls.   
  
Leorio stares straight ahead, just as before. They haven't made real eye contact in weeks; it was foolish of Kurapika to hope that tonight would be different. "Wanted to see if you were any closer to figuring things out," he says after an eternity.   
  
Biting his lip to keep an expletive from flying off his tongue, Kurapika takes a deep breath. "I see. Well, I'm currently trying to keep a struggling mafia family afloat, handle my duties as a Zodiac, _and_ track down the Phantom Troupe, all at the same time. You'll have to _forgive_ me if I don't have much time to devote to deciphering my best friend's cryptic and illogical 'hints' as to why he's slowly murdering himself." Bile rises in Kurapika's throat at the last words; the irrational urge to seize two fistfuls of Leorio's jacket and kiss the answer out of him only grows as he tries to suppress his gorge. His fight or flight instinct is useless to him here; it clouds his mind, ruins any chances of unraveling this mystery. With a sigh, he drops his gaze to the gravel in front of the bench. "Maybe you're right," he murmurs, a softer tone creeping into his voice. "Maybe I really am just so damn stupid. But even if I am, I want to help you, Leorio. Can't you at least give me a real hint? I need to understand what you're hoping to achieve here."   
  
The cigarette rises, flares up; a wisp of smoke escapes from Leorio's lips, only to be sucked back in to cause further destruction. "Maybe I'm hoping I'll get lucky." That voice, husky with poison, is all wrong; it sets Kurapika's teeth on edge, but he clenches his fists and stays silent. He's managed to coax actual words from Leorio- infinitely better than what he'd been working with before.   
  
Waiting patiently for more proves fruitless; three more drags of the cigarette, and Kurapika is forced to fumble through a response. "What do you mean, get lucky?"   
  
That smirk crawls onto Leorio's face, identical to the one he wore so frequently during the Hunter Exam. There's an infinitesimal crinkling at the corners of his eyes to differentiate it from his usual bluster; this smile is the same one that hid cracked ribs from his opponents.   
  
In some twisted sense, he's treating Kurapika as an enemy.   
  
As the silence between them drags on, Kurapika's blood begins to sizzle in his veins. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he spits. "That you'll be just fine no matter what you do to your body? In case you've forgotten, Killua's the one who's immune to poison, not you."   
  
Leorio lets out what could pass for a laugh, a little huff that releases a burst of cigarette smoke. It's a perfect metaphor; there's something toxic burning inside him, eating him away with every few breaths. It's been months since he saw that first cigarette, but Kurapika has yet to see more than a trace of the reason for Leorio's slow suicide. The deeper motivation is buried in this cloud of feigned nonchalance that's suffocating them both; the outline of the truth hovers just out of sight, mocking him. He has to push.   
  
"Tell me," Kurapika demands, "What makes you think you'll never pay for your stupid, self-destructive behavior?"   
  
That distant gaze finally moves from the horizon, but not to look at Kurapika. No, Leorio is studying the space between his wide-splayed feet. The pattern in the bare concrete slab is less of a disappointment to his eyes than Kurapika's face. "You still got it wrong, Pika," he murmurs, holding up what little remains of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger. "If I get lucky, these things will kill me before I have to see you pay for _your_ stupid, self-destructive behavior." With that, he taps the stub, flecks of ash dropping to expose the final ember.   
  
The confession hangs in the air for several seconds before Kurapika can grasp it and begin to make sense of it; as he does, a humorless chuckle draws his unfocused eyes back to Leorio.   
  
"Hurts to watch someone you care about willingly destroy themselves, doesn't it?" Leorio rasps, lips stretched tight and curving upwards in something utterly removed from a smile in all but shape.   
  
"You don't understand, Leorio," Kurapika stammers. "The cigarettes are... they're a choice. I don't _have_ a choice; I promised, and I can't go back on my promise. Not anymore."   
  
"Who did you make the promise to?" Leorio shoots back, eyes blazing as he finally meets Kurapika's gaze. It sets the Kurta's heart thudding against his chest; his friend is finally displaying some emotion other than melancholy. "Were they alive to hear it? Do you think if they'd been alive they'd even have accepted that promise, knowing what it would do to you, what it's-" Leorio stops short, a guttural noise between a whine and a growl bubbling in his throat. After a moment, he clenches his fists and forces out the rest, voice trembling despite being a mere whisper. "What it's _already_ done to you?"   
  
Kurapika stiffens, an unpleasant heat rising to his cheeks, one he refuses to name. That would be as good as admitting Leorio is right about this, and he can't afford that. Too much is at stake. "Spare me the lecture," he begins, only to be cut off by a finger just centimeters from his face.   
  
"No, you shut the hell up and pay attention, Kurapika," Leorio spits. The sudden profanity coupled with the use of something other than his usual endearment drives Leorio's wrath home all the more. "If I can put up with you bitching about my fucking _cigarettes_ , you're sure as hell gonna listen to me now." The burning stub rises into the air, drawing Kurapika's eye as Leorio cocks back his arm and hurls the cigarette out of sight.   
  
Leorio sits there, seething, for what seems like forever. It's painful to watch; when he takes a deep breath and refines his rage to a point, the feeling worsens. "What was the last thing your dad said to you, Pika? Your mom? Pairo?" He holds up a hand, shaking his head. "You don't have to tell me; just think about it. And then ask yourself if they would be happy if they could see you now, the person you've become."   
  
"This is all temporary, a necessary sacrifice," Kurapika mumbles to the pin holding Leorio's tie in place. The words, the litany that has been a balm to his burning conscience for years, are drained of all substance before they reach Leorio's ears. But he can't stop. "The Kurta clan must be at peace; only then can I have peace of my own."   
  
"Your clan is _dead_ , Pika," Leorio insists, a twinge of sympathy in his voice as he rests a hand on Kurapika's shoulder. "Peace doesn't matter to them anymore; nothing does. And I guarantee you, vengeance won't bring _you_ peace. By the time you're done making these 'temporary' sacrifices, there's gonna be nothing left to go back to."   
  
"So suddenly you're a fortune teller?" Kurapika shrugs off the hand, perhaps more violently than intended, but he can't bring himself to regret it. Regret is a luxury far too costly for those with unfinished business.   


Long fingers tap a blue-clad forearm; Leorio's next words are slow, thoughtful. “All right, then. Let’s say you succeed. What are you planning to do after you kill off the Troupe and get back all the scarlet eyes, if you ever do?"  
  
A moment of silence, confusion; Kurapika's stomach drops like he's free falling. "I don't have the luxury of thinking about what happens after," he says, the words hollow as prayers from an atheist. "I need to be focused on my mission."   
  
"And that mission," Leorio says, scooting closer on the bench, "How do you decide which Spiders need to die? Do they have to have been there when your clan was murdered, or is being part of the Troupe justification enough?"   
  
Kurapika's hands are trembling; his eyes are flickering pink again. "Leorio, stop this."   
  
"No," his friend shoots back. "You know who the newest member of the Troupe is? It's Kalluto. You remember Kalluto, right? The youngest Zoldyck. What happens if they get in the way of your revenge?" As Kurapika opens his mouth, Leorio holds a hand up. "Don't answer that. I don't wanna know. Just..." He swallows hard, blinking rapidly, before speaking in a low, trembling voice. "Just tell me something. If you can say yes, I'll leave you alone. Are you happy with the person you are right now, Kurapika?"   


* * *

  
Kurapika lay in bed, transfixed by the voice on the other end of the line. He'd answered out of sleep-hazed reflex, not checking the contact's name as usual. A large part of him was glad he hadn't.   
  
"Wow. I didn't..." Leorio's swallow was audible even over the phone. "Didn't think you'd pick up. I was just gonna leave a message like usual."   
  
"If you want, I can let you leave a voicemail," Kurapika murmured, trying to quell the ache in his chest that was equal parts dull and stabbing. He would be able to add that message to his collection, listen to it over and over on the nights when his bed became too big for one person... but Leorio was here, now, and he couldn't bear the thought of either of them hanging up.   
  
"No," Leorio blurted, hasty and desperate, and Kurapika barely covered the receiver in time to hide his sigh of relief. "I mean, it's okay. I'd rather talk with you than at you, y'know?"   
  
Kurapika's smile crept into his voice, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. "The feeling is mutual."   
  
Seconds ticked by, the silence equal parts companionable and stifling, until finally Leorio spoke again. "It's funny; I was just calling to hear your voice on the recording, not even to leave a message. All this time wishing I could hear your voice for real again, and now that we're here... I can't think of what to say."   
  
"Friends don't always need to speak; sometimes just knowing that the other person is there with you is enough." Even as the words left his mouth, Kurapika cursed himself for a fool. He wanted Leorio's voice in his ear, _needed_ it now that it was there for the asking.  For all his hatred of small talk, he would rather chat about the weather than endure silence tonight.   
  
Leorio grunted a wordless negative. "Maybe if you were here with me, but all I've got right now is your voice. I wanna hear you."   
  
"You're even sappier than I remember," Kurapika said, a fond smile lilting his words. "Have you been drinking?"   
  
There was a moment of not-quite-silence; a swish of liquid, a swallow, and Leorio let out a telltale breath. "Maybe."   
  
"Will you remember this call in the morning?" The beginnings of something stirred in Kurapika's stomach, too vague to be called an idea but stronger than just idle fancy. He shifted in bed, sheets against bare skin a reminder of his lack of clothing. He always slept nude; it was nothing out of the ordinary, yet in this moment, that fact seemed important for reasons that had yet to solidify in his mind.   
  
A little chuckle. "Why? Need to confess your sins?"   
  
Kurapika's mouth went dry, tongue swiping across suddenly parched lips. "Maybe something like that."   
  
"But not quite that?" Leorio made a thoughtful noise, then lowered his tone. "Are you _looking_ to sin, then?"   
  
A shiver ran through Kurapika's entire body. Gods, Leorio couldn't possibly know what that voice was doing to him right now. "I don't know," he whispered as a tingle took up residence in his lower abdomen. "You tell me."   
  
Leorio's ragged breath sent static through the line, but it didn't last enough to mask what sounded suspiciously like a zipper. "I've missed your voice so much, Pika."   
  
A slick, rhythmic sound reached Kurapika's ears, melding with Leorio's words to set his nerves ablaze. Without so much as a thought, he reached down to mirror his friend's actions, eyelids fluttering as he choked back a groan. It had been far too long since he'd done this last; turgid flesh pulsated at the barest touch, threatening to undo him in moments if he wasn't careful.   
  
"Pika?" The voice on the other end was hesitant, almost fearful; those deliciously obscene noises that had so inspired Kurapika had come to a halt.   
  
Shaking his head, Kurapika struggled to summon up the presence of mind to respond. What was it that Leorio had said? Panic set Kurapika's heart thudding against his ribcage; his next words were not a response so much as they were the only words that came to mind. "I miss you, Leorio. More than I can say."   
  
Leorio let out a sigh, and the sound of skin on skin trickled through the earpiece once more, albeit quieter now. "Good."   
  
"G-good?" Under normal circumstances, Kurapika would have been mortified at his conversational ineptitude; at the moment, though, with one hand barely holding onto the phone as the other spread precum down the already throbbing head and shaft of his member, he couldn't bring himself to care, so long as Leorio kept going.   
  
"Yeah." A strange sound, like the beginning of a moan bitten back, and the pace of Leorio's stroking increased. "I don't... don't wanna be the only one."   
  
Some brazen, shameless part of Kurapika nearly blurted out not to worry, that he was desperately jerking himself off to Leorio's voice too, but he bit his tongue just in time. It would be too much, too soon; words like that carried too much weight for so fragile a moment. Instead, he bucked upwards into his hand, hoping the sound would carry to his friend's ears. "You're not alone, Leorio."   
  
"God, I missed how you say my name." Leorio's breathing hissed from between clenched teeth, a telltale quiver betraying his state, but his words were a low growl, an animalistic command that made Kurapika yearn to obey. "Say it for me again, Pika."   
  
Kurapika trembled, struggling to hold his composure long enough to say his friend's name with a semblance of dignity, but that tone coupled with an ill-timed stroke over just the right spot cut through the frayed threads of his control. As it all unraveled, tension pooling in his pelvis as his legs tensed and his hips rose from the bed, he was reduced to whimpers, those four blessed syllables spurting out as desperate and uncontrolled as the seed that coated his abs, chest, even as far as his neck. At the same time, a hurried hiss of his nickname followed by strangled, almost pained sounds signaled Leorio's end.   
  
They lay there for seconds, perhaps, more likely minutes, long past catching their breath. Their mutual urge satisfied, satisfaction had given way to emptiness and trepidation. Once again, neither of them had words. And just as before, Leorio broke the silence after it grew too heavy. "You still there?"   
  
Closing his eyes, Kurapika prayed his voice wouldn't tremble. "Yeah... sorry."   
  
"Don't be." Another pause, and Leorio blurted out, "Y'know, they're renovating the park over by the Association Headquarters."   
  
Floating in the blissful, shameful haze of an ill-deserved afterglow, Kurapika's eyes went wide, and he stifled what might have turned to a giggle. That man was the king of forcing a non-sequitur. "Oh? Something special?"   
  
"Yeah, it's gonna have lots of gardens, tons of places to take a walk and chat and go on- uh, be outdoors," Leorio supplied, the verbal swap anything but subtle. "I thought maybe one day you and me could take a walk through there when it's done."   
  
Kurapika bit his lip, eyes going scarlet as the missing piece fell into place. _Go on dates_ . That was what Leorio had been ready to say to someone else. But not to Kurapika. No, Kurapika was only good for... whatever _this_ had been, for scratching an itch when porn wasn't good enough and no one suitable was at hand. It was better that way, Kurapika insisted, far better than having Leorio share in this infatuation that was edging toward something more dangerous. The Troupe remained unpunished, some scarlet eyes were still missing; no, Kurapika couldn't afford his _own_ feelings, much less having them reciprocated. All that reasoning, though, did nothing to loosen the knot that had tied itself in his throat. "I'd like that," he choked out. He had to keep the charade intact, just until Leorio hung up. After that he could fall to pieces, grieve for what would almost certainly never be, use it to strengthen his resolve to drag the Spiders to hell.   
  
"Did I tell you I got an apartment?" Leorio's voice mercifully dragged Kurapika out of his thoughts. "It's big, got a nice view of the city."   
  
"Mm," Kurapika managed, eyes flickering back to a safer pink. "That would be nice to see sometime."   
  
"I have a spare bedroom, too. You could live here if you wanted."   
  
The words slammed into Kurapika's chest like a battering ram. "Leorio," he whispered, glad the other was cities away and unable to see the scarlet glow now bathing his bedroom. "Don't do this."   
  
"Do what?" Leorio's voice was nonchalant, heedless of the damage he was causing. "I'm just saying, there's plenty of space here for an old friend."   
  
An old friend. That was all Kurapika was, all he would ever be- an old friend with an unrequited crush. Life in Leorio's apartment would be hell. The distance between them, however painful, was a blessing; it made it easier to imagine that under other circumstances, under stars that didn't conspire to keep them apart, they might have become something more. Without distance to make that desperate lie seem almost plausible, confronted with the unwavering reality of Leorio's friendship, and only friendship, Kurapika would lose the one glimmer of hope he held for a life after vengeance.   
  
"I can't do that, Leorio," he said, fist clenched as he struggled to keep his voice level. "You know I can't, you know _why_ I can't. Please don't ask me for what I can't give you."   
  
"Your revenge can't wait for a month? You could relax, get a fresh perspective, come back to it with new purpose. You might even find a new lead while you're here."   
  
Part of Kurapika wanted to agree with that logic, insisted that living with Leorio, even as friends, would be better than all these lonely nights. Enticing as it was, though, he knew his own nature far too well to let himself believe being that close would be anything but torture. The mere sound of Leorio's voice over the phone made his heart leap; hearing that in person, he would be far too tempted to push the boundaries Leorio was so clearly setting up. A drunken, glorious night of passion would be followed by the morning's regret, by explanations and excuses and awkward silence before they settled back into a damaged version of their peculiar friendship. Even if Leorio began to accept him rather than pushing him away, what could Kurapika offer him before his clan was at rest? Better to keep his distance, wait until it was all over and try to win Leorio's heart when his own was no longer filled with hate. "I'm sorry, but this is just how my life is," he said. "On the path I've chosen, I can't afford to become distracted."   
  
Leorio let out a sigh that sent static through the airwaves. "And are you happy with your life, Pika?"   
  
The question squirmed in Kurapika's mind, echoing until it threatened to deafen him in his silent bedroom. A _yes_ \- the practiced, defensive lie of a _yes_ that sounded believable to acquaintances- slid from his lips out of both reflex and necessity. In the guilty pause that followed, Kurapika's chest swelled with a deadly, ever-expanding mixture of emotions- regret over lying to Leorio, anger that he had been forced to lie in the first place, and above all, fear that Leorio would call him out on it. It was the magical lie that held his life together, just waiting to be revealed for what it was; if Leorio unraveled the spell, Kurapika had no way of predicting the consequences.   
  
It was several moments before Leorio spoke again, and when he did, he sounded weaker and more weary than Kurapika had ever heard him. "Okay. Talk to you later, Pika." With that, the staticky silence lasted only a second longer before Kurapika's earpiece went dead from the disconnected call.   
  
Sleep did not come easy that night, nor for many nights after, and the next pair of scarlet eyes Kurapika found stared at him not in gratitude as he always preferred to imagine, but in pity.   


* * *

  
"It's a simple question, Pika. Are you happy with who you are?" Leorio is still staring at him, brown eyes pleading for the truth. There's no phone line hiding them from one another now; the distance between them can be spanned in a heartbeat, not hours. If Kurapika lies this time, he loses all hope of keeping Leorio in his life outside of professional meetings.   
  
Blood fills Kurapika's mouth; he's bitten through his lip. He can barely feel it with his heart pounding hard enough to dull all other sensation. "It doesn't matter if I'm not happy," he says after a moment's consideration. "The Spiders must be destroyed so that no one else has to experience that horror. That's all that matters. My happiness can come later." It's the truth, at least in Kurapika's mind; it's how he soothes the screams of a guilty conscience, the ache of loneliness, the pain of watching his friends walk an ever-diverging path. The promise of _later_ is all that keeps him going at times.   
  
"And you think once you kill the last Spider, all the horrible things you've done, all the ways you've compromised yourself..." A tear slides down Leorio's cheek, but his voice remains firm. "You think it's all gonna magically disappear so you can be happy?"   
  
Kurapika gasps, eyes burning as they brim with moisture. There's no way his contacts can hide the scarlet glow; they're designed to conceal a faint pink tinge, not anything of this magnitude. Instinct screams at him to break eye contact, but he can't, no matter how he tries. "Please, Leorio," he whispers. Anything above a whisper, and he's doomed- there's no way his voice won't crack. If it cracks, the tears he's holding back will fall, and he'll be lost in the flood. "Don't take my revenge from me. It's all I have. I have _nothing_ else left."   
  
Rage and disbelief contort Leorio's face into a near-nightmarish vision. "You idiot," he growls, "You still don't get it." The hand that has been pointing between Kurapika's eyes retreats to run through Leorio's hair, flattening spikes that spring back up instantly. "Think about Melody. She's been taking care of you- making sure you eat, checking on you whenever you pull your selfish little disappearing act. Hell, she's even knocked you out with her Nen a few times when you were being too stubborn to sleep." Just as Kurapika begins to open his mouth, one finger shoots up to cut him off. "Don't try to deny it; she and I talk. I _know_ what goes on when you're busy ignoring my calls. You think Melody's been taking care of you out of some ulterior motive? Revenge isn't all you have: you have her, even if you don't deserve her."   
  
Shame, ice cold and burning hot, bathes Kurapika's head and shoulders. A ragged breath turns to a whimper, jarring twin streams of saltwater loose. Blinking does nothing for his blurred vision; his mouth opens without a word in his mind. "I-" he chokes out, then tries in vain to force his lips back together. He can't tell if that word was the beginning of a sentence or merely a sob shaped into a pronoun. It doesn't matter either way; he can't continue.   
  
"I'm not finished," Leorio grates. "Melody isn't the only one who cares about you. Think of Gon, Killua... hell, even Alluka. You may not believe it, but that girl has only met you once, and she would still tear the sky down for you if you just said the word. You have them. And that's not even the biggest one. For god's sake, Pika, you have-" Leorio's eyes go wide, jaw clicking shut. As he turns away, his hands shoot deep into his pockets. Kurapika hasn't seen that nervous tic in years; he knows beyond a doubt, even with Leorio's back turned, that he's chewing his lip.   
  
"Leorio," Kurapika murmurs, reaching out in a near-dreamlike trance to tug at his friend's sleeve. "What is it? What were you going to say?"   
  
Broad shoulders rise and fall; in the wake of the sigh, a barely audible, "Fuck it," floats into the air. Faster than Kurapika can react, Leorio whirls and seizes the lapels of his jacket. Once again, their lips slam together, and as the universe condenses to a few inches, Kurapika finds himself no more prepared for this kiss than the last.   
  
Again the taste of cigarettes, fresh upon stale, invades Kurapika's mouth, but this time the message it carries is clearer. It brings with it a new feeling, even more powerful than the liquid electricity running down his spine and pooling in the front of his slacks. This is a warmth of a different kind, something he hasn't allowed himself to feel even vicariously in years. The last vestiges had perished in his chest along with his clan, or so he had thought.   
  
They break apart, Kurapika's head spinning as paradigms shift and rearrange themselves. The truth is fluid, malleable; he's afraid to hope it will solidify into what he so desperately wishes for, but he has to know either way. "But you... you just wanted to be friends. That's all. You said so over and over."   
  
Leorio's laughter borders on hysterical, but it's not that pained huff anymore, and so it sets Kurapika's heart aflutter regardless. "God, Pika, do you have any idea how many times I had to correct myself so I didn't scare you off?"   
  
Lip trapped between his teeth, Kurapika reaches out to touch Leorio's shoulder, partly to emphasize his next words, but mostly to reassure himself he's not dreaming. "Then you..." He pauses, looking down at where their feet are nearly touching. "I have no idea how to ask this," he finally admits, cheeks nearly as red as his eyes.   
  
"Then how about I just tell you?" Leorio's hand tilts Kurapika's chin back up. "I want to be way more than just friends, Pika. I wanna hold your hand, in public if you'll let me. I wanna take you out to fancy restaurants and order shitty takeout at 3 AM, I wanna hear stories about your childhood and tell you all the embarrassing nicknames my family used to call me. I want to bicker with you like we always do, but then kiss all the hard feelings away afterward. I wanna whisper dirty things in your ear at Zodiac meetings and watch you try not to blush, I want your toothbrush next to mine in the bathroom. I want you to start living, really _living_ , and I wanna be there to share life with you when you do. That's how I feel about you."   
  
Tears brim in Kurapika's eyes, and for once he doesn't try to stop them. "That sounds... wonderful," he chokes out, then bites down on both his lips to stop the crack in his voice. "I just don't know if I can promise anything. It's been so long; even before you met me, I was already a long way down this road. I don't know if I can leave it all behind."   
  
Leorio's finger brushes Kurapika's lips. "I know, and I'm not asking for you to drop it all and walk away right now. Just... give this a chance. Give _us_ a chance, and live a little bit of the life you've been denying yourself. The rest, we'll take it as it comes, but no matter what, you won't have to be alone anymore."   
  
The first sob rips its way out of Kurapika's chest, tears jarred loose to stream down his cheeks; he grabs Leorio's face and brings their lips back together, smothering his own cries with kiss after kiss. His mind is in utter disarray, his heart aching, but somehow that's all right. There is so much to talk through, so many issues left to resolve with Leorio and with his own conscience, but for the first time in years, he can truly believe that it will all work out for the best.   
  
  
  
  



End file.
